Spearmint
by honeysweetcutie
Summary: Draco Malfoy never thought they'd be in this position. Two years of working side-by-side at the Ministry, and he never once presumed to think for a moment that Hermione Granger would be his partner on a mission, let alone stuck on the side of a cliff wall with her. If her shallow breathing and pale face were of any indication, neither did she. [ONE SHOT]


**Author's Note: Hello everyone! I am primarily a Kingdom Hearts fanfiction writer, but I am wanting to cross into the Harry Potter realm to write my beautiful Dramione ^.^ This drabble (mini one-shot?) is just practice, to see if I can get into their heads and be able to accurately depict them. Please, don't hold me to too high of a standard, as this is the first time I'm writing a non-KH fic in about 13 years. They might not be totally in character, but I definitely tried my hardest. I'm new at this! I will get better with practice :)**

** Drabble Prompt: "I won't let you get hurt."**

** Pairing: DracoxHermione**

** Rating: K - T**

** Song I Listened to: "Chemical Fires" by Tides of Man**

* * *

Draco Malfoy never thought they'd be in this position.

Two years of working side-by-side at the Ministry, and he never once presumed to think for a moment that Hermione Granger would be his partner on a mission, let alone stuck on the side of a cliff wall with her. If her shallow breathing and pale face were of any indication, neither did she.

Keeping his long fingers curved tightly over the lip of a jutting rock, he licked his lips. He felt like if he took too deep a breath, it might be too much and cause it to crumble beneath his touch. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, racking his brain for a solution to their predicament. Thirty feet down, twenty feet up, and wands dropped into the treetops beneath them - their options were limited.

"Malfoy," came Hermione's clipped tone from above him. Swotty as usual, even when they were mere seconds from careening into the nether.

"Granger," he replied, because two could play at that cliffside game.

"My foot is going to slip," she said, sounding somewhat breathless, "if we don't figure this out."

The sixteen-year-old him would have told her he didn't care either way what happened to her. The Draco from before the war. But the new Draco, the twenty-year-old Draco, was more focused on how much he regretted becoming an Auror. What was he thinking? His childhood was a thing of trimmed nails, expensive tea, and a balcony that was way too big for a First Year. A closet full of silken robes, a diamond and ruby wizard's chess set, and a bathtub with golden claw feet. Aurors camped in dirt and squatted in bushes for days hunting.

What was he _thinking_?

He supposed when he thought about it, it wasn't _so _bad being here with Granger. It would be better if she weren't so useless on the sides of cliffs, but hey, she knew more about magical creatures than anyone. When his superior handed him the folio and he'd seen Granger's name at the top as first consult for information, his first reaction had been to roll his eyes and discard it. But the deeper he'd gone, the more he'd discovered, he'd realized that the dark wizard the department was tasking him with capturing was one who specialized in the torture of magical creatures. Seeing as Granger specialized in the _care _of magical creatures, and seeing as how he hadn't the slightest clue where to find a damn Acromantula let alone a bloody pixie wing farm in the forest, he'd had to set aside his faculties and go to her.

Fast forward two weeks, and the two of them would have smelled like arse and sweat if it weren't for that positively _dreamy _bag of hers filled with everything known to man. She'd forgotten nothing, and brought way too many books, and that was just fine when he was in a panic thinking he'd be without his beloved spearmint toothpaste for weeks on end.

"_Here,_" she'd said, handing him a tube of a very muggle toothpaste with a blank look on her face. It was unopened. The tent was huge but felt extremely small whenever she crossed to his side.

He'd taken it, lifting his nose somewhat. "I can't use anything but spearmint, I'll have you know. But this will do for now."

She'd merely turned and went back to her side, and then when he'd conjured a mirror to use outside by the stream they'd made camp near, he'd been surprised to see that it was, in fact, spearmint.

Even more intriguing?

When he'd tried to give it back and she'd said, "_Keep it. I brought it for you."_

He'd bitten back his desire to make a smart remark about how she'd assumed he'd forget something so important. Something about the frizz in her hair and the rigidity of her steps told him it wasn't a good idea.

And now, as they were hanging on the side of a cliff and tiny pebbles were becoming dislodged by her quivering foot, he found that toothpaste with a spearmint flavor was absolutely not important. Because Hermione was indeed slipping, and the small wail that left her lips as she slid down an entire inch - because an inch on the side of a cliff is definitely a mile - obliterated that spearmint memory.

Draco was full of himself, conceited as most Malfoys were, but he didn't want her to die. He never had wanted her to die, even during the war, and the sweat that collected on his palms between the cliff wall and his skin reminded him of the sweat that had gathered there that night at the manor. The fire in the drawing room fireplace hadn't been hot back then, but her screams pounding against his eardrums had scorched his skin and settled into his bones.

He hadn't wanted to work with her on this project because he feared she would see his guilt. Her eyes, those honey-brown irises, always had seemed to be able to see beyond face value. She was excellent at reading books, and therefore it stood to reason that she'd be excellent at reading people. He felt terrified that she'd see past the puffed up image of Malfoy pride he projected to the papers, past the tough Auror persona he put on at the Ministry, past the lazy way he let his blonde hair fall into his eyes and the way he let his tie hang loose about his neck when even Potter kept his snug against his pulse. He feared she'd be able to see him, and then he wouldn't be able to hide.

Draco had never quite been able to hide from Hermione.

His arms were beginning to quiver. The gentle breeze had picked up from below and now felt a little too strong for comfort.

"Granger, you've got to calm down," he said through gritted teeth. "If you fall too rapidly, you'll hit me, and we'll both go down. Do you understand?"

"This is _your _fault," she spat back, though the vitriol in her voice felt less barbed to him than she probably intended it to be. "I told you that pixies don't go near cliffs. Their wings are only good for flying short distances. Their bodies are too heavy for open-air flight."

"That's exactly _why _I figured our mark would hide them near a cliff, or just under the edge. I saw a hole in the cliff face when we were at the bottom," Draco shot back, unconsciously tightening his hold on the rock.

"And you thought it would be pertinent to reach it from the _top_? We could have levitated up!"

"That's exactly the fifteenth time you've mentioned that," Draco hissed. "Except for the fact that a wizard like this one would not have forgotten wards to keep Aurors out. Therefore, if we had simply levitated up, we could have been hurt, maimed, or worse - _killed_."

Draco glanced up, seeing nothing but her trainers and unable to tear his eyes away from the way her feet were shaking. His throat went dry. Arguing like this was dangerous - especially when it was clear that she didn't have anywhere near as good a grip as he did, and his grip wasn't even that great. He looked down, wondering how close the opening that he'd seen was. He wondered - could he just drop down and swing in?

"Have you . . ." Her swotty tone faltered as she took a gasping breath. "Have you attempted to _accio _your wand?"

He fought the urge to sigh. Of course he had. But nothing had come sailing up, which meant the wand had likely been broken.

"I dunno, Granger, have _you_?' he bit out. His knuckles ached.

"Obviously," she huffed. "But my wand -"

"Is likely broken." He cut her off. "Like I said ten minutes ago."

"Don't be such an insufferable git, Malfoy!" Granger said, sounding shrill. She started to speak again, but a cry was ripped from her throat as her right foot suddenly slipped downward again. A shower of dirt and rocks came down, forcing Draco to turn his head and tilt it downward. His heart raced as a quite horrifying image of Granger's bushy hair soaring down past him to death assailed his mind and his irritation at her melted for a moment.

"All right," Draco said. "We're wasting time. The hole has to be mere feet below us. I'll -"

"It's two meters below us."

He clenched his teeth. Of course Hermione Granger would know the exact distance of a small cave in the side of a fifty- to sixty-foot high cliff. He'd brought her to help him with understanding pixies and the Fey, not to make him feel like an idiot for not understanding distance.

Because he _did _feel like an idiot.

"Right. Well, in any case, I'm going to let myself slide down and try to . . . Well, to catch onto the edge. Then, I can pull myself up and into the cave. Then -"

"Malfoy!" she cried, and the shrillness of it almost made him cringe. "You can't! What if you miss? You'll be killed!"

"I'm _aware_ of my mortality, Granger," he said, teeth pressed tightly together. "But if I don't do _something_, we'll _both _be killed."

Hermione was quiet, but Draco knew she knew he was right.

But before he could start his descent, the unthinkable happened.

Hermione tried to adjust herself for some reason unknown to Draco due to his vantage point and lack of ability to see her upper half, and the rock beneath her right foot gave out completely. She let out a piercing scream that rang out through the air and she came down towards Draco, whose eyes had gone wide with panic and horror. He acted on instinct, leaning back as far as he could without sending himself down.

"Put your legs together, Granger!" he shouted above the sound of her screams.

He tensed his muscles as she did as he told her to, and then she slid down in-between his body and the cliff face. Knuckles going white and hands trembling, his biceps flared to life as he pressed his body against her back.

"Grip the rocks," he breathed quickly, into her ear, the strain of holding both of their bodies already getting to him. "Grip them quick."

She did so, her screaming tapering off into rapid, gasping whimpers that he'd only ever heard from her under Bellatrix's wand. She was trembling, her whole body quivering, but he knew there was nothing he could do about that. Her hair, though a massive ball of fluff against the underside of his chin, was a gentle reprieve from the sheer anxiety of the situation. She smelled of lavender, and it helped ground him.

"We don't - ng - have time to waste . . . Any longer," he said, grunting slightly. She wasn't exactly heavy, but it was a bit much for his already strained fingers. He slowly adjusted his feet against the rocks he had them perched upon, trying to get a better hold. His heart beat wildly against the cage of his chest, and he hoped she couldn't feel it. Her fear would only serve to heighten his own and worsen their situation.

Hermione didn't reply, she just continued to choke and gasp and it was then that Draco realized her panic had reached a level that wasn't intentional. She was having an attack, a fit, and it was so unlike her that Draco didn't quite know what to do. He understood her fear, but he was terrified that if she kept shaking like that, she'd push him backward.

"You've _got _to get yourself sorted," he said as calmly as he could, resting his chin against the top of her head as he struggled to keep his footing and hold on the wall.

"I . . . I c-can't . . ." she sobbed. "I . . . I can't . . ."

"You've _got _to," he insisted. He opened his mouth to tell her if she didn't, they'd fall, but then he realized that would only make her panic increase. He had to calm her down somehow. "Please, Granger. I just need you to calm down, and then I can drop down and get into the cave. Then I can catch you."

It was clear to Draco that Hermione chose to work behind a desk in the Ministry for a reason.

After a moment, she sucked in her breath and whimpered, "A-All right. But please . . . Don't l-let me fall."

The quality and tone of her voice was unlike any Draco had heard from her before. In school, she was unfettered knowledge. In the war, she was fire and flames. When she spoke on his behalf at his trial and single-handedly kept him from going to Azkaban, she was strength incarnate. But here on the side of this cliff, she was a right mess.

"I won't," he said quietly. He leaned back slightly, and when his back left the warmth of hers, she let out another high-pitched wail, her fear rising to a crescendo once more. He quickly leaned forward, pressing her against the rock.

"Wait, just wait," Hermione whimpered. "I'm sorry, just . . . Wait . . ."

Draco was not experienced with the comforting of others. Once, Pansy had sobbed in his arms over something or another in Fourth Year and he'd said nothing. The awkwardness he'd felt in his heart at that time had been overwhelming, and when she'd finally stalked off to her dorms, he'd felt relieved to be rid of her for the day. Here, now, at twenty, it was no different. Hermione was obviously in need of comfort, but it was difficult when not only was he just plain _bad _at it, but their lives depended upon his ability to keep her calm.

"Hermione," he said, because it was the only thing he could think to do. "I will not let you get hurt. I promise. But I've got to make a move, all right?"

Perhaps it was hearing him say her name for the first time in their lives. Perhaps it was the authoritative tone. Perhaps she'd just come to her senses. But she stopped crying. She stopped crying, and her trembling faded into a slight tremor.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Okay," he repeated, under his breath.

He leaned back slowly, and though Hermione cringed against the rock wall, she did not make a sound. He absentmindedly took one last inhalation of her lavender scent, and then his left foot began to blindly search downward for another foot hold. He tested the weight and, when satisfied that it could hold him, he began to move the other. The breeze played with his hair, but thankfully it wasn't too much. He glanced up at Hermione, a little surprised at how quiet she was now.

"All right, Granger?"

"My arms are very, very tired," she said, and her voice was wistful and drained. But she was calm. "Please hurry."

He didn't respond, choosing instead to focus on his task. He made his way down the cliff face, stopping every so often to look to his left and right for a possible dip in the rock that could be the cave. He wasn't sure if it was below him directly, or if they were slightly to the side, so he wanted to check to be sure he was on the right path. It was infuriating not having his wand, and his wandless magic skills weren't exactly top notch since he'd spent his entire sixth and seventh years in a bad mindset.

To say the least.

He glanced up one time, seeing with alarm that Hermione's left arm was hanging at her side. He paused for a moment, watching to ensure she wasn't falling. She hung there by her feet and one hand for a moment, making a feminine groaning sound as she switched arms and let the other hang. Draco knew then that it was serious - she didn't have the endurance he had as an Auror. He needed to hurry.

Draco made it to the cave. They'd been slightly to the right of it. He found it when he reached down with his left foot and felt nothing but air when he kicked it forward. He climbed over to the top of it and held his breath. Counting to three, he dropped down and hoped for the best.

When his feet were on solid ground, he opened his eyes. In front of him, darkness stretched on into what was not a cave, but a tunnel. And there, lying discarded like unused kindling, was Hermione's wand. It wasn't broken, but as he picked it up and his magic responded to it, he was able to tell that there were indeed wards on the cave. Her wand had been inside them, unable to respond to the summoning spells she'd undoubtedly cast. He attempted to cast _wingardium leviosa _on a small rock, but when nothing happened, his suspicions were correct. No magic in the cave.

He leaned his head out as far as he could and cupped his mouth with his hands.

"Granger!" he called up. "Move to your left about one foot, and then let yourself fall!"

"Fall?!" Her panic was audible. "You want me to _fall_?!"

"I'll catch you, I _swear_," he assured her. "Just move over, and then let go."

"No," she said. "Absolutely not."

He sighed in exasperation. "Your wand's here, but I can't perform any magic."

"Did you -"

"Granger," he interrupted. "I cannot perform magic in this cave. You've got to drop, and then I will catch you."

"Malfoy, I -" And suddenly, her voice cut off. There was a slight crumbling sound, and Draco's eyes widened. The rocks were shifting, and Hermione was _going _to fall.

"Granger, move to the left! Quickly!" he cried.

"I'm . . . I _can't_, it's too . . ." Her voice trailed off and Draco watched almost in slow motion as the rocks beneath her feet crumbled into nothingness. A bloodcurdling scream was ripped out from the depths of her throat and then, as if she couldn't help it, she wailed.

"_Draco_!"

Something about her using his first name increased his sense of urgency. Draco was sure it was too far, and he wasn't sure he could lean out far enough to catch her. He wasn't sure what would happen, but he knew he had himself, his wits, and her wand. And as she fell past the side of the cave, shrieking and face streaming with tears of sheer terror, Draco did the opposite of what he did that night in the manor, that night he stood by and watched his aunt scar her with a lifelong reminder of his failure to help his peer.

Hermione didn't cover the scar anymore, and the angry red letters burned into his mind every night in the tent. She was stronger than him for that, and they both knew it. When they spent their evenings eating soup she made in silence, his eyes watching the way the skin stretched taut around the edges of the O's and the D, he knew she knew he was watching. When he brushed his teeth with that spearmint toothpaste, he wondered if she knew he'd watched her smell the Amortentia in Slughorn's class. He wondered if she knew she was smelling the scent of the Manor's garden grass, the fresh parchment he wrote his letters on, the spearmint he'd always used to brush his teeth. He wondered if she brought that toothpaste on purpose because she knew it was his favorite.

Draco Malfoy never thought they'd be in this position, but he was glad they were. He wondered so many things about how she felt but somehow, in that moment, he didn't care to hear the answers. He didn't care about positions and spearmint toothpaste and scars and pixies with their translucent wings. He only cared about her.

He held tight to her wand and leapt.

* * *

**A/N: I struggled with where to end it, and I'm unsure if people like that ending, but I'm hoping it's pretty clear that they don't die or anything crazy like that. I don't know if it's any good, but I hope for a first try, you guys like it!**

**Thank you for reading ^.^**

* * *

Want to stay connected?

Honeysweetcutie on AO3

honeysweetwriting dot com

HoneySweetWriting on Facebook

Honeysweetcutie dot Tumblr


End file.
